


Something New

by polexia



Series: Semicolon Project [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Street Fairs, Tattoos, Triggers, please read notes for triggers description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 22:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16841611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polexia/pseuds/polexia
Summary: It’s all Charlie and Meg's fault that Castiel is even out tonight. By the end of the night, he’s glad for that.





	Something New

The trio moves slowly through the thick crowd milling around the street. Every few minutes, one of them surges forward, coming back with a triumphant cheer and a paper plate in hand. They all sample as much food as possible and engage in friendly arguments over which of the vendors have the best fares. They have been here at the street fair for almost an hour but haven't gotten even a third of the way through the booths and entertainers. and there are no plans to leave any time soon. Though it isn't usually his scene ー far too many people and far too much noise for that ー Castiel is having more fun than he originally anticipated. Charlie licks her fingers clean of any residue of zesty sauce. Castiel is having more fun than he originally anticipated. Charlie licks her fingers clean of any residue of zesty sauce from the pasta dish they've just eaten and grins widely at him.

"Are you glad we dragged you out of your house yet?"

Castiel shrugs and drops the plate into a nearby recycling bin. "I never said I wouldn't come."

"No, you just implied heavily that moping over your life and pining over your failure of an ex was what you really wanted to do," is Meg's dry retort before she takes a small sip from the bottle of water she smuggled into into the fair (paying seven dollars for a drink is as outrageous and inexcusable to her as kicking a small, helpless puppy would be to any other person).

"I wasn't _pining_ ," he sighs, dragging a hand over his face. "I was just... wondering why only losers seem to be attracted to me."

"Because losers only want to be with someone better than them. They think their status of loserhood will suddenly be gone if they're dating a person way out of their league and trust me, you were _so_ out of Eli's league."

"Thanks, Charlie," Castiel murmurs with a smile.

"Yeah, Red, that was almost not cheesy."

Coming from Meg, that is high praise. Charlie merely beams, a hint of smugness in the curve of her lips, and disappears through the throng of people. Meg pulls on Castiel's arm, brings him to a stop; their friend pops up beside Meg after only moments. Meg raises an eyebrow in amusement as Charlie holds up a flimsy plate bearing some sort of kebab. They walk on in silence, chewing and swallowing the unfamiliar meat and roasted vegetables, their eyes taking in the sights around them. A mixture of aromas ー some spicy, some sweet, others savoury ー blend in the air, invade their noses. Bright lights illuminate every nook and cranny of the long street lined with booths; the roar of hundreds of people talking and laughing nearly overwhelm Castiel, absolutely would have, absolutely would have if his two best friends weren't by his side.

Castiel met Charlie Bradbury in a child development class in high school. She'd immediately attached herself to him, ignoring his declaration of not needing any friends and that he was better off alone. Her dark brown eyes had seemed to see deep inside of him as she said rather vehemently, that nobody ever deserved to be lonely like that. "I'm going to make sure you're never alone, even if it kills me" were her exact words, ones that still ring clearly through his mind. Her red hair matches her fiery personality. He’d asked her, once, why she was so Hell-bent on being his friend; she's still never given an exact reason, but hid seen the sharp pain of her own losses before a wall snapped into place behind her eyes, leaving no trace of the sadness like closing the lid to a box. From then on, she's been a most loyal godsend to his solitary existence: She always seems to predict what he needs before he even knows his needing for anything. Many nights have been spent talking too long on the phone as he's ranted ー or cried ー and she was listened, empathised, or distracted him from his misery by gushing about crushes, books, or video games. She is his protector, saving him from the world's darkness and himself, and me doesn't know where he would be now if he didn't have her.

Meg Masters came along like a hurricane during the first month of his second year of college. She'd slammed her tray down onto the cafeteria table and dropped into the chair next to Castiel's; her eyes had been dark and stormy, the inferno of barely-concealed anger roaring behind the espresso-coloured irises. Castiel and Charlie had stared in wide-eyed shock at the newcomer, but Meg hadn't met their eyes. Instead, she'd snapped at them with acidic sarcasm which caused them to exchange surprised looks. It hadn't been their choice for her to sit at their table when there were plenty others for her to choose from. Nonetheless, there hadn't been any discussion: Meg sat with them that first day and just... never left. But she's proven, time and time again, to be exactly as fiercely loyal of a friend as Charlie ー though in a completely different way. She isn't as sure of herself in the emotional situations, but angry? Angry, she can do. She can give the best, if not crass, advice on how to get revenge against someone who has wronged him or to get a crush to notice him. When it comes to crying or heartbreak, however, she nearly drowns in her hopelessness. Castiel still often wonders what caused her to join them that day in the cafeteria, but he is definitely grateful that the tornado that is Meg hasn't blown out of his life.

With a start, Castiel realises there's a space between clusters of fairgoers. He hurries forward, hand gripping Charlie's tightly ー he hopes she latches onto Meg in time before they're all separated ー and takes a deep breath as he makes it to the other side. There is a significantly smaller amount of people wandering about on the side street; he can breathe more easily without the crowd. Meg pulls her wrist from Charlie's grasp, brushing nonexistent dirt from her dark T-shirt.

"Well, that was interesting, Clarence. Mind explaining why Firecracker nearly ripped off my arm?”

"I ー I'm sorry. I saw a less-occupied space and went for it. There's... nothing that can fully distract me from how absolutely crowded the streets are tonight."

Meg's expression softens as her eyes trail over his hunched shoulders and averted gaze. "Eh, it's okay. A little bit of excitement is just what we needed."

He sends her a grateful smile, appreciative of her understanding.He sends her a grateful smile, appreciative of her understanding. The trio stands silent as people flow past, head further down Main Street where more booths stand and tantalise their senses with delicious aromas and bright lights. Once Castiel has calmed down enough that his heart is no longer fluttering a frantic escape from his chest, he allows Meg and Charlie to lead him back out into the fray. He doesn't eat any more samples, though his friends come close to begging him to; his appetite vanished with the rise of his anxiety. He knows the bottle sits deep in his jacket pocket ー he placed it there seconds before he'd walked out of his apartment to get into Meg's Jeep ー but pulling it out in front of the sea of people causes his stomach to drop and iron bands to wrap tightly around his ribs, and the pill he took on his way out the door is already beginning to wear off. He knows his friends are aware of his need for medication, but Castiel doesn't want anyone else to look at him and know he's broken. He makes a mental note to talk to his doctor about increasing the dosage. He is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realise that Charlie has stopped abruptly until he nearly bowls her over. She's staring at something halfway down the block.

"Meg, look."

"That's interesting," Meg murmurs; for once, there is no sarcasm lacing her words.

"I wonder what it is."

"Like I know? It wasn't there last year."

"Let's go check it out."

Castiel's confusion only grows when the women push forward, Meg clutching onto his sleeve to prevent separation; neither of them bother to explain what's going on, so he mentally shrugs and follows his friends. when they slow to a stop, his brows furrow at the sight of a tall, four-walled booth. There are no doors that he can see, though the back of the booth is up against a building. In the ware facing the street is a small hole, covered on the inside with a thick, black curtain. A chair sits below the cut-out circle; a group of people stare apprehensively at the booth. A large black sign on the left side of the wall announces:

  
**_Free Tattoos!_ **

_Step Right Up If You Dare!_

_Free ink (permanent or semi-permanent) for anyone_

_brave enough to withstand the suspense_

_of not knowing what they're getting!_

_The artist chooses what you get.*_

_1) Take a seat,_

_2) Put your arm through_

_3) Press the button for the_

_option you want,_

_and 4) Enjoy!_

A smaller sign below reads:

  
_-100% sterile_

_*100% Guarantee of Classy, Tasteful Art_

_If not satisfied, free cover-up of your choice._

_(Only applicable to permanent tattoos)_

_Semi-permanent tattoos done with Henna dye._

_( PLEASE tell artist if you have latex allergy!)_

Castiel knows the shine in his best friends' eyes. Both girls turn to him simultaneously as soon as they're done readings and he groans inwardly. Whatever idea they have brewing in their brains is sure to backfire massively on him. He cocks an eyebrow, and Meg smirks devilishly.

"So, Clarence.I how do you feel about ink?"

"I feel I can live without it."

"C'mon, Castiel! It'll be a great reminder of spontaneity."

"Yeah, angel boy, it can be a physical souvenir of all the times you fought against your anxiety and won. Or, y'know, of being with two _incredibly_ gorgeous chicks at the same time."

Castiel can feel his cheeks burning. "I ー"

"Please pretty please?" begs Charlie as she clings to his arm; her lower lip juts out. "You don't talk about your past, and I get why. Completely. I know it's been literal Hell the past few years. But this... this is something that Pam's been telling you to do for a while."

"Pamela has _not_ been telling me to get a tattoo, especially not a street fair."

"No," Meg interjects firmly, sighing, "but she _has_ been telling you to actually do something new for once."

He stares between Charlie and Meg for a few minutes, mulling over what they've said. His therapist, Pamela Barnes, just told him the same thing earlier in the week, that staying in the same routine, the same pattern, every single day is doing nothing for his progress. That going out and doing something out of the ordinary can help pull him out of his rut and keep him from becoming stagnant and most likely relapsing. She is one of the best therapists he has over had, and he really doesn't want to let her down. Or himself. Castiel exhales heavily and steps toward the chair. Someone in the crowd starts cheering loudly; he has a feeling that he's either the first, or one of the few, fair attendees who have accepted the booth's offer of a free tattoo.

"Make sure it's permanent!" Meg calls.

Charlie smiles sympathetically and makes her way to his side. Meg follows suit only seconds later. Castiel slips his arm through the hole in the wall, shifting in the metal chair to get more comfortable. There is a small box on the ledge with a sign taped to the top. _A ー Permanent. B ー Henna dye_ is printed in neat, block letters. Before he can do so much as blink, Meg darts forward, presses the button labelled "A". He merely gives her an unamused look out of the corner of his eye before crossing his legs at his ankles. The longer he sits there with nothing happening, the more nervous and confused he becomes. Perhaps no one is on the other side. Maybe this is just a waste of time. Castiel nearly falls out of his chair when somebody suddenly grabs his wrist gently; something cold slips across his skin, and he shivers. He frowns when there's a dragging sensation along the top of his wrist to the middle of his forearm, followed by the cold thing again. He only gets the mechanical buzzing noise as a warning, and the inhales deeply just as the sharp pain starts. He guts his teeth and waits for the end.

As he sits there, arm resting on the sturdy ledge that connects to the edge of the hole in the wall, his mind travels back to the first ー and what he thought was the last ー time he was in the position he’s currently in. The image of Eli, in all his smug glory and invincible pride, his grey-blue eyes enticing in the worst way, with his hair casually ruffled, shoots to the forefront of Castiel’s brain. Eli was what Meg and Charlie so eloquently described as a “clusterfuck train-wreck nightmare wrapped in a high-quality dream package”; he was full to the brim with charm and the right words to say. He knew how to speak and act and touch just enough for Castiel to let his walls down. He was sweet, patient, loving… When Castiel got food poisoning, Eli was there to take care of him, nurse him back to health. Eli had been the first one to comfort Castiel when his father had a heart attack. Charlie and Meg showed up shortly after Castiel got the news, but Eli was there first, his eyes showing nothing but tenderness and concern; his words were low and soft and sweet. Castiel had wanted nothing more than to please him. So when Eli had asked, Castiel wasted no time in booking an appointment at the nearest best-rated parlour. He’d walked out with Eli’s initials inside of a small Celtic knot on the inside of his right wrist. All that met his eyes now is a jagged, angry scar the size of a dollar coin ー the only remnant of the razorblade’s stinging kiss. That had been the second time in the span of as many months that he ended up in the hospital for seventy-two hours. Neither Charlie nor Meg knew about the tattoo; he’d made sure it always stayed covered before Eli fucked everything up ー before he’d fucked Castiel up.

Finding out Eli had packed up and left in the middle of the night, leaving only a burnt-out cigarette butt in an ashtray and a five-word note behind, had damn near killed Castiel. Eli hadn’t even _tried_ to put more thought into the goodbye message, only “I don’t want you anymore” had been enough for the asshole. Charlie had been the one to find Castiel the next morning in his bed, sheets soaked with the blood that had been spilled. The razord shined from its place in his limp hand. She’d called Meg who had directed her to wrap a clean towel around his arm and call an ambulance, that she would meet them at the hospital. It had been Hell, waking up to find himself strapped to a bed in an unfamiliar place. The bandage wrapped around his wrist had been blindingly white under the fluorescent lights; the doctor called Pamela in to do a psych evaluation on him. It’s been nearly two years, though, and Castiel is doing so much better now. He hadn’t thought the women he loved would ever forgive him for what he had done. Instead, Meg had pleaded for him to let her find that “sorry sonuvabitch who did this to you and make him pay.” He begged desperately for her to drop it; she wasn’t happy, but she’d done as asked, though she promised that she would be sending loads of erotic magazines and intimate supplies catalogues geared toward gay men, to Eli’s parents’ house in the man’s name. Castiel hadn’t had the heart do ask her not to.

Castiel jerks his arm back once the noise of the tattoo gun stops, but that gentle grip on his wrist turns to steel. Something smooth and round slides across the flesh of his palm ー a pen. He lays his hand flat and waits with bated breath until his arm is released. When he pulls his arm away, his wrist is shiny from ointment and plastic wrap; under the protective layer is a jet-black semicolon about an inch and a half long with small, intricate angel wings of the same colour on either side. He opens his hand to see what was written. Under a phone number are the words _If you need to talk_. Charlie bounds up to his side, and he hurriedly hides the words away beneath his fingers. Her eyes fill with tears when she sees the new ink residing in his skin.

“Oh. Em. Gee. Castiel, that’s _amazing_! I love it. Oh, the wings are fantastic.”

“It’s really nice,” Meg whispers with a soft smile, the one she reserves for just him and Charlie. “It suits you, angel.”

He grins to himself before turning back to the curtains, leaning close to be heard over the music and chatter blaring throughout the fair. “Uh… thank you. It’s perfect.”

He walks away with his left arm linked through Charlie’s right, Meg announcing their passage through the crowd. Pam and his friends were right: Something new was _exactly_ what he needed.

**Author's Note:**

>  **triggers** :
> 
> go to [this link](https://www.rot13.com/) and input this code:  (or hover your mouse over text).


End file.
